


The Innkeeper's Basement

by Shearmouth



Series: (Beats back Writer's Block with a Stick) Whumptober 2020! [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (allusions only), Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Human Trafficking, Hurt Edward Elric, Kidnapping, NO NONCON OR ACTS OF PEDOPHILIA TAKE PLACE IN THIS FIC, Non-graphic threats of rape/noncon, Parental Roy Mustang, Pedophilia, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Whumptober 2020, they are alluded to fairly vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shearmouth/pseuds/Shearmouth
Summary: For Whumptober Day 2: KidnappedEd is introduced to a new level of human depravity.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang
Series: (Beats back Writer's Block with a Stick) Whumptober 2020! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947829
Comments: 30
Kudos: 390
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	The Innkeeper's Basement

**Author's Note:**

> This is darker than I normally write. It's also kinda sloppy and I don't love how it shook out but YEET

Ed never thought he’d be grateful for the blindfold. 

When they first tied the cloth around his head, he’d thrashed and snarled. His teeth sank into a finger at one point, earning him a foul-tasting mouth and another kick to the stomach. They’d gotten it on him just the same, cutting out the dismal sight of the dark, moldy basement in which they’d thrown him. At first, he’d hated not being able to see. fuckers who’d taken him were stealthy. Now the faint creak of the stairs was his only signal to one of them arriving or departing. It left him vibrating with fresh tension, every sense straining for information.

Then they released the rats.

It was horrible, hearing them scurry around, but he knew it would be much worse if he could actually see them. Ed hated rats. He always had. Maybe his captors had just thrown a dart at the torture board and decided to start with rodent warfare, but in any case they’d nailed it. Somehow being blinded was better. If Ed could see their beady eyes, long, rusty teeth–

Something tugged on his foot. Ed snarled and kicked out. He heard the blow land, followed by a squeak and a satisfying thud. There was a flurry of small feet and the sound of fur on fur, then the wet crunch of flesh and bone being torn apart.

Ed’s gorge rose. At least the new meal would keep them occupied for a while.

That left him with the question of what the hell happened, and how the hell he was going to get out of this.

There were two of them– he knew that much. One was a tall, gaunt man with a slimy gaze, who ed was pretty sure was just a crony. The other was the innkeeper. Ed had to give the fucker credit. The middle-aged, potbellied man who’d greeted him and Al jovially upon their arrival was the last person Ed would’ve expected to try and kidnap a State Alchemist.

In his defense, the sleepy mill town of Reeseburg was also the last place Ed would’ve expected to be kidnapped.

But they’d gotten him. And they’d gotten him subtly. The innkeeper had asked Ed to fix a crack in a support beam near the back of the building. And again, in his defense, Ed was used to it. Just about everywhere they stayed someone asked him to mend a broken pipe or a family heirloom. It took him five seconds and it was nice to see the smile on their face afterward. He’d crouched to examine the crack in the pillar, and when the air whistled behind him and the nape of his neck prickled in warning, he turned just in time to see a thick piece of firewood coming down on his head. A flash of pain was all he knew before waking up in the basement.

Ed scowled in self-righteous annoyance. Al was always on his back for being rude to people. See what he gets for being nice!

He tested his bonds again and bit his lip in annoyance when they refused to give. Whoever these people were, they clearly knew about him. They’d tied him with his thumbs to his palm and the backs of his hands together, then wrapped him from fist to elbow in tight bands of cloth. Then they strapped his bound hands to his lower back with tough rope before binding his ankles and bare feet together with more cloth. They’d taken his shirt but left his pants (thank god), so his legs were protected from the damp stone and the bite of the rope. His torso wasn’t so lucky. The coarse bindings around his back and hips were scraping his skin raw. The punches to the stomach and knees to the diaphragm hadn’t helped.

They’d covered all his metal and immobilized his hands– no way to transmute or scratch a circle into the stone. He tried using his teeth to draw blood from his shoulder, thinking he might be able to paint one with his chin or nose– even in the dark, he knew a few arrays from feel alone and should be able to replicate them. He’d gotten halfway through one when the innkeeper barged in before Ed could cover it.

They gagged him after that.

Ed slumped against the wall in frustration. Every part of him ached. His head throbbed, his shoulder was screaming, and every now and then the muscles of his abdomen would spasm, sending shocks of pain through the bruising there. In the last few hours, an unbearable thirst had set in, aided by the gag sapping the moisture from his mouth.

He knew what they were doing. The rats, the dark, the isolation, deprivation– they were trying to break him down.

What puzzled him was why. In the process of receiving his state license, he’d been briefed plenty of times on torture. Everyone officer in the military was required to learn the most effective methods of “extraction resistance.” Ed knew that physical exhaustion was often a precursor to the really nasty stuff. But other than the blow to the head and the punches, they hadn’t hurt him yet. Judging by the bone-deep fatigue and roaring thirst Ed had been feeling for some time now, they’d had him for at least two days.

What were they waiting for?

The stairs creaked.

Every muscle in Ed’s body snapped taut. He scrambled to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall as a wave of dizziness overtook him. No, no, he couldn’t pass out now.

Footfalls echoed into the basement. Ed listened closer. Something was different. He realized, with a jolt of alarm, that while the innkeeper’s clunky footfall was present, his slimy-eyed lackey’s was not. Instead it was a second set of heavy steps, heavier even than those of the innkeeper. Dread coiled in Ed’s gut.

The steps stopped about five feet in front of him. “Well, what do you think?” the innkeeper’s reedy voice asked.

A displeased huff. “He’s all bruised up. Why didn’t you just drug him?” The speaker had a strange accent Ed couldn’t place.

“Some of our clients like to watch them squirm.”

A hand tangled in his hair. Ed startled and roared into the gag, lunging forward. The hand was removed, then Ed gasped as a boot connected with his sternum. He fell back onto the wall and slid onto the floor, struggling for breath.

“And this one’s a little spitfire,” the innkeeper continued. “Figured you might like that.”

“You figured wrong,” the other voice growled. “You know I come on behalf of my employer. He likes his toys intact upon arrival.”

Ed froze. _Toys?_

“With all due respect,” in innkeeper protested, “your employer wants a dog, correct? He’s still perfectly functional.”

“Functional, maybe, but my employer has no desire to fuck a battered, bloody toy.”

Ed’s entire body went cold.

_No. Oh God, no._

“The deal is off,” the second voice said. 

“What?” the innkeeper exploded. “I got you people the _Fullmetal Alchemist!_ That’s what you wanted!”

“We wanted him in good condition,” the second voice spat, “not looking like a half-starved corpse covered in rat shit. Damn you, Zelig, this is why we didn’t buy from you before. Your… _aggression_ always spoils the product. Don’t expect our business in the future.”

“Well, what- what I am I supposed to do with _him_ then? I stuck my neck out real far for this deal! The military–“

“Is not my problem. I don’t care what you do. Find another buyer. Or kill him, for all I care,” the second voice said. “One less demon to plague your country. I will take my leave now.” There was a scrape on the stone as the other man turned, then started up the stairs. A door slammed above them.

Dead silence. Ed didn’t breathe. He could hear the innkeeper– Zelig– standing over him, panting in rage.

“That son of a bitch,” he hissed. The swish of fabric was all the warning Ed had before the heel of Zelig’s boot came down on his shin.

Ed heard the bone crack in half a second before he felt it.

Pain exploded in his leg and ripped up his spine like liquid fire. He muffled a choked shriek in the gag, hating to give the fucker the satisfaction, but his hearing was cutting out and he couldn’t breathe right and _god damn it this is just like the last time one of his legs was violated–_

“ _SON OF A BITCH!”_ Zelig roared. “Fucking son of a _bitch!_ That sand-fucking mother _fucker!”_

There was another scrape, a shuffle of shoes, then the stairs squealed as Zelig thundered up them. The door slammed again.

Ed let out another howl into the gag. Shit, _shit,_ everything hurt.

Everything hurt and he was more scared than he’d ever been in his life.

He collapsed onto his side, curling into the wall and trying to breathe. Tears stung in his eyes, and suddenly he was sobbing into the rough fabric on his face, choking on the agony and terror consuming him.

Ed had encountered a lot of bad people in his two years as a State Alchemist.

But this…this stripped him of all his bravado and bravery because he knew there were things worse than death. So much worse. And he couldn’t get out. He was trapped and immobile and he couldn’t get out.

_Oh god, Al, where are you?_

_Al!_

_Mustang?_

_Anybody!_

ººº

Time passed. Or maybe it didn’t. It didn’t matter anymore.

Ed blacked out at some point after Zelig crushed his leg. He was shaken awake by rough hands that sat him up and pinned him against the wall. The gag was ripped off, and Ed choked as water was poured into his mouth without warning. He coughed, then drank eagerly. That water was the best damn thing he’d ever tasted. Zelig cut it off before he could get his fill, but even as he replaced the gag Ed felt strength flow into his parched body. Some of the agony dimmed in his leg. He waited until Zelig ascended the stairs, then slumped against the wall in relief. Before he drifted off again, he noticed distantly that the rats had been removed.

When Ed woke, hours or maybe years later, his leg was throbbing and the stairs were creaking.

Terror shot through him. The water had cleared his head just enough to drive home how bad his situation was.

Whatever. He refused to let them see how scared he was.

Ed struggled to sit up, bracing his shoulder against the wall for leverage, but almost as soon as his head was off the floor a gut-punch of nausea and dizziness hit him. He froze, quelling the urge to puke. If he puked with a gag on, he’d aspirate, and Ed refused to leave this bitch of a world by drowning in his own vomit.

He opted to turn over so his back was against the wall. At least he could face his fate somewhat head-on.

Someone was with Zelig. Another stranger, with light, deliberate footfalls. Ed quailed.

“Take a look!” Zelig said. Ed flinched as Zelig grabbed him by the armpits and lifted him into a slumped sitting position. He couldn’t suppress the whimper as it jostled his leg. “He’s alive, I assure you. He got a little uppity, is all. He’s sporty. Should be nice and exciting. I wouldn’t let him heal up too much, though.” Zelig yanked on Ed’s loose hair, snapping his head back and baring his throat.

Ed wanted to fight back. Everything in him screamed to fight back. But his leg was roaring with pain, and a numbing terror seemed to have engulfed his entire body. He couldn’t move.

“Still, he should make an excellent addition to your coll–“

There was a snap. Then a shout.

Then a wall of unbearable heat.

Zelig screamed. It snapped Ed out of his stupor and he threw himself onto the ground, curling up as small as he could. The room was suddenly overtaken by a crackling roar.

And then as soon as it had started, it was over.

Ed couldn’t move. His mind had gone blank. He was trembling. There was a weird smell in the air, like old meat.

A flurry of footsteps, and someone was next to him. Ed flinched and ratcheted himself even smaller. _No, no, no._

“Fullmetal?”

Ed choked in a gasp. _No way._

The gag was pulled off, firmly but gently, followed quickly by the blindfold. Ed’s eyes throbbed. There was a lantern on the floor, illuminating a familiar figure.

“Fullmetal, can you hear me?” Mustang asked, sounding more rattled than Ed could ever remember hearing him.

 _Mustang,_ he wanted to say, but he couldn’t get his voice to work. His limbs wouldn’t respond. He just stared, drinking in the staggering relief of seeing someone he knew.

Mustang didn’t even look like himself. The prim uniform was gone, replaced by a tailored suit, and his hair was slicked back from his forehead. But there was no mistaking those burning black eyes or the array on his glove.

Mustang was looking at him worriedly. Ed could only stare back at him with wide eyes.

“Let me get you untied.” Mustang drew a short knife from his coat and eased Ed forward. He sliced through the bonds around his forearms, then sawed carefully through the thick wrappings around Ed’s hands. They came free, and Ed couldn’t hold back a ragged yell as his joints were released from the position they’d held for days.

“I know, I know,” Mustang said gently, easing Ed’s arms around to the front. “Just breathe, kid.” He moved to undo his legs, and Ed jolted back.

“What? What is it?” Mustang asked, head snapping up to meet Ed’s eyes.

“L-leg,” Ed rasped. “Broken.”

Mustang put the knife down. He lightly ran his hands down Ed’s flesh leg. When it met his shin, Ed gasped, “There. D-don’t.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t. Better to leave it like that, actually.” Mustang sheathed the knife and crouched down. “Right. I’m going to pick you up. This is going to hurt, Fullmetal.”

Ed nodded. “It’s– okay. Just– get me out of here.”

Mustang exhaled, nodded. Then he threaded his arms behind Ed’s shoulders and knees and lifted him up against his chest in one smooth move.

Ed couldn’t help it– he wailed. His vision whited out as agony overtook him.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Mustang urged. “C’mon kid, just breathe.”

Ed breathed deep, which turned into a gasp, which turned into a sob.

And before he realized what he was doing he had curled into Mustang’s chest, twisted his hands into his lapels and was weeping into his shoulder.

Holy shit. Holy _shit._

That had been– he had almost–

“Colonel,” Ed gasped, “they were– they were gonna–“

“I know,” Mustang said, “I know, kid.“

“They were gonna– they almost–“

“But they didn’t,” Mustang said fiercely. “They didn’t, and you’re safe now, Edward. I’m taking you away from here. You’re going to be all right.”

Ed felt Mustang start walking quickly, holding him tight to his chest, and Ed clung on, crying and shaking and breathing in Mustang’s scent, clean and familiar and safe.

ººº

A week, it turned out. Ed would’ve bet on two, but then again it didn’t even feel like the world had been turning when he was in that basement.

He’d passed out not long after Mustang carried him out, and when he woke up he was in a hospital bed with a cast on his leg, a needle in his elbow and his little brother sitting on the floor.

Ed was grateful for Alphonse every second of every day, but damn if he didn’t thank a god he didn’t believe in when he was pulled into a careful, desperate hug and Al started running on about how worried he’d been and how happy he was to see him awake. Ed wished in that moment so _fiercely_ that they’d just gotten their bodies back already so he could hug Al for real and squeeze all that awful fear out of his voice. But after talking for a while, they’d both steadied.

So yeah, a week, according to Al. He’d been in that hole for a week.

“They’re still trying to figure some things out about the guys who took you,” Al said. “Mr. Hughes is interrogating the surviving one now.”

The surviving one. So Mustang hadn’t pulled any punches on Zelig. Ed wanted to feel vindictive about that, happy even, but all he felt was a pathetically strong relief.

“They still don’t know why they kidnapped you,” Al had continued. “They think it was for ransom money, but we’ll know more once Mr. Hughes is done with him.”

Something in Ed went cold. And in that moment, he vowed to himself that he would never tell Al what had really happened down there. And what nearly happened.

Which left one other person he needed a promise from.

ººº

Mustang came around that evening. He was back in his uniform, and his hair hung into his eyes like normal. The last time Ed had seen him was so surreal that part of him struggled to believe it had even happened.

But as soon as Mustang’s eyes met his, Ed could see the gravity in them.

Mustang glanced away and cleared his throat. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

Al looked up. “Oh, hello Colonel! Brother’s awake!”

“I can see that,” Mustang said with a faint smile. He looked back to Ed. “How are you feeling, Fullmetal?”

Ed blinked. “Uh…sore. But okay.” He glanced to Al. “Uh, a little hungry, actually. Al, would you mind grabbing me something to eat?”

“Oh, sure!” Al stood. “Anything in particular?”

Ed thought fast. “Could you get a few things? I’m not sure what I’m hungry for.”

“Yep! Colonel, would you like anything?”

Ed stared hard at Mustang and nodded minutely. Mustang’s eyes narrowed for a second before turning to Al.

“Yes, a coffee and bagel please, Alphonse,” Mustang said. “Thank you.”

“No problem! I’ll be right back!” Al clanked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Mustang’s shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly, but when he sat on the chair to the left of Ed’s bed, his posture was casual.

“Hospital coffee is awful,” Mustang said nonchalantly, gazing at the ceiling. “Given how many people lose sleep in this place, you’d think they’d invest–“

“You can’t tell him,” Ed blurted.

Mustang looked down to him. He shifted so he was leaning in toward Ed, his expression serious. “What can’t I tell who, Fullmetal?”

“Al. You can’t– you can’t tell him what–what they wanted me for,” Ed said, hating how his voice shook. “He’s thirteen. And I know I can’t protect him from the world forever– fuck, I’ve already failed enough at that, but he shouldn’t have to know that– that–“

“That there are people in the world who are so evil as to do something like that,” Mustang finished, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Ed nodded shakily. “More that– that I almost– became a victim of one. A _toy,”_ he spat.

Mustang stiffened next to him. “Fullmetal…”

“And I just–it would scare him. A lot. He’s so– _good,_ he sees the good in everyone. Everyone he meets, he wants to believe in them, but I don’t. I _can’t._ I never have, but especially not now, and I don’t want that for him. I don’t want him to– to become cynical. I need to protect him from that for as long as I can, so you can’t tell him, okay?” Ed pleaded.

Mustang blew out a long breath, and cradled his forehead in his palm.

“When we figured out who took you,” he said lowly, “We thought there might be more to it. Teenagers have been going missing in that town for the last few years. Hughes has a few informants in the black market. One of them knew of the men who took you. He put us in touch with the leader– Zelig.”

Ed couldn’t help but shudder a little. 

Mustang rubbed at his eyes. “We had to be sure. We didn’t know where he was keeping you. Human trafficking is rampant in this country. You could’ve been anywhere. I posed as a…customer. Turns out he was keeping you under an abandoned house right there in Reeseburg. He took me right to you.”

“You killed him,” Ed said carefully.

Mustang met Ed’s eyes levelly. “Yes.”

Ed nodded slowly, rolling the information around in his mind.

“Edward,” Mustang said, and it was the sad, delicate tone that shocked Ed as much as Mustang’s use of his first name. “I…hate to ask, but I have to. Did he–?”

“No,” Ed cut in, horrified. “No, I– no. I don’t think…he was one of them. I think he just liked to hurt people. The other man who came in said something about his aggression–“

“The other man?” Mustang asked sharply.

“Yeah,” Ed said, “there was another man who came looking…to buy. It wasn’t just ‘cause I was a kid, Colonel. They had wanted me.” Ed swallowed hard.

“Could you tell Hughes about it?” Mustang asked. “When you’re both ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell him,” Ed said. He swallowed again. His throat felt oddly tight. “Just–not right now.”

“No, not right now,” Mustang agreed. He sighed. “As for Alphonse, I won’t tell him. But I hope you will, Fullmetal. Your brother is strong and has a good heart, and I know he wants to help you recover however he can. He can’t do that if he doesn’t know the whole story.”

“He doesn’t need to know,” Ed said, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Very well. But you need to talk to _someone_ about it. Otherwise it’ll burn its way out, right through you. That’s how trauma works,” Mustang said.

“You think I don’t know about trauma?” Ed snapped.

“I know you do,” Mustang replied, unfazed. “And I know you’re stubborn enough to shove it down. But that doesn’t last. The nightmares get worse, Fullmetal.”

Ed stared at Mustang in shock. How did he–

Mustang raised his eyebrows pointedly. “I know how trauma works too. And I can tell you from experience that if you don’t talk about what happened, it’ll find its own way out. And that’s not pretty. So if you can’t talk to Al, talk to someone, all right?”

Ed swallowed hard, but he glared at Mustang defiantly. “Is that an order?”

“If it has to be.”

Ed looked down, deflating. His throat was scratchy now.

“Fullmetal–“

“I was scared.”

Ed froze. He hadn’t even meant for the words to come out.

And now Ed’s eyes were stinging and he couldn’t stop talking. “I was so scared, Mustang. They blindfolded me, and I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t see, there were rats, and–“ he heaved a shaking breath. “I was so scared. I’m still– still so scared.” He clenched his teeth, muffling a sob.

“I know,” Mustang said. “But you’re safe now. And this is never going to happen again, I promise.”

Maybe it was the conviction in Mustang’s words, or how utterly drained he felt, or how the words and the feelings were boiling up inside him and he needed someone to catch them and Mustang just happened to be there, but Ed found himself asking, “Can I talk to you?”

Mustang blinked, looking momentarily stunned.

Then his eyes softened. “Yes, Fullmetal. Talk to me.”

So he did.


End file.
